Red Noses
by ShipOfHope
Summary: Jane and Lisbon are out of town on a case, and they get trapped in a meat locker. Jane/Lisbon first-time romance. **This is my first fic EVER. I don't own the Mentalist, but I love this show!**
1. Chapter 1

"Ah. Lisbon?" Jane signaled out the passenger-side window. Chagrinned, CBI Agent Teresa Lisbon spotted the weather-beaten sign for Pete's BBQ in her rearview mirror. She was already cranky, even more now that she realized she would have missed the location entirely if Jane weren't here.

_Then again_, she reasoned defensively, if she had come out on her own, she wouldn't have had Jane distracting her in his usual manner, and she probably would have found the place an hour ago and been following up on her notes by now. She sighed audibly, and slowed the SUV to a stop before putting it into reverse.

CBI Consultant Patick Jane was pleased to no end when his self-satisfied smile earned him a smirk from Lisbon's direction. As the big car pulled into the crumbling lot, Jane and Lisbon took in the vacant parking spaces and faded red awnings. A small square sign on the restaurant's front door read "CLOSED" in black letters.

They pulled up parallel to the Entrance, and Lisbon cut the engine. "I remember hearing good things about this place a few years ago," she said. "Hm," Jane grunted in polite acknowledgement, then swung open his door and hopped confidently out of the car. Lisbon locked the vehicle and stood near him at the front of the restaurant, where the Hours were professionally lettered on tinted glass doors. "Six to ten P.M., Friday and Saturday. Noon to four on Sundays," she read aloud. She glanced at her watch. "It's Five-fifteen on Friday night, and none of the staff are here yet..." She glanced around. "Jane?"

"Back here," he called out. His voice was muffled, and Lisbon heard a door creak open from the rear of the building. "Jane! Wait-" she called back, exasperated, and heard the door groan shut as she rounded the corner. The back of the property boasted more tired-looking asphalt and a recently emptied industrial garbage bin. It was overrun in places with feet-high weeds. A wooden gate with an iron latch stood slightly ajar, and Lisbon stepped around it cautiously. "CBI! Is anyone there?"

Patrick Jane's vested torso popped out from inside the restaurant's back door. "No one here but us, Lisbon." She stared at him, incredulous, and didn't bother to keep suspicion and annoyance from her voice.

"Jane - Did you break in?"

He appeared offended, but secretly gloated over her squeaky tone. "You make it sound so, wrong."

"But - "

Jane cut her off, letting the door fall nearly closed and stepping lightly off the small concrete porch. "That gate was already unlocked, and the only security camera they have is on the front parking lot. Did you hear any alarms go off when I opened this door?"

She glowered at him, hands on her hips. "Did you ever consider that you might have triggered a silent alarm?"

He beamed. "Oh, I hope so. Don't worry - if anyone shows up, I'll convince them that we had a legitimate reason to enter the premesis." He rushed on, seemingly deterred by her indignant posture. "Then _you_ can score at least one interview and possibly a new lead. Or maybe rule something out."

He paused to give her a chance for rebuttal. Lisbon recognized that he was only warming up, and she tilted her head to signal him to continue. Jane looked around them quickly and said, after a moment, "I think there's an equal chance that no one will show up."

She frowned, then ventured slowly: "If there's no silent alarm, this Pete is either very trusting or very broke."

He appreciated her attempt to follow his logic, so he pretended to consider her theory. For two seconds. Then his natural superiority won out: "Well. Either circumstance would be unfortunate for Pete, but I think it much more likely that there is an alarm, and that someone intentionally failed to set it after stocking up this morning."

"How do you know someone was stocking up today?" she questioned. Jane threw a thumb over his shoulder at the building: "The dates on the cartons inside."

He could make her so crazy at times, with the manner in which he chose to let her know he was always one or two steps ahead of her and everyone else. Already she was out of sorts, but he was still preening for his own amusement.

Resolving to be calm, she reasoned aloud. "Restaurants get most of their business on Friday and Saturday nights. Even run-down ones. This place is only open on the weekends. We're here during normal business hours, and they're closed."

Jane watched her brow crinkle in puzzlement as she continued: "The garbage was collected recently, which supports what we've heard about their being open last weekend... They may have been preparing to open tonight, but the sign out front doesn't say why they're closed or when they'll reopen. That's pretty sloppy for a proprieter. Actually, none of this is making any sense."

"Ah," said Jane, and Lisbon realized she had arrived at precisely his point. "What made them suddenly shut the whole place down, on boom-town Friday night, with no explanation to their patrons?"

"We'll know soon enough," she muttered, and stepped past him with her cellphone in hand. "Boom-town?" she shook her head.

"What?" he asked innocently. She ignored him. "VanPelt said the owner was meeting us here." Jane had the grace to grimace and duck his head as she glared at him under one raised eyebrow. "Of course that was when were expected over an HOUR ago. Maybe he couldn't wait for us." She didn't look to see if her barb landed, but flipped the phone open and prepared to speed-dial junior agent Grace VanPelt.

"Or maybe..." Jane countered. She turned to face him. The wary tenor of his voice had her hanging up before the call could go through. "Maybe he arrived and never left."


	2. Chapter 2

**Maybe he arrived and never left.**

Lisbon sought Jane's gaze as she registered his meaning. "I didn't see a car," she said quietly.

He glanced around them. "Neither did I."

"Stay," she ordered, unsnapping her holster. "I'll trace the perimeter and meet you right back here." She drew her weapon and emphasized with her hands: "Don't. Move." He raised his eyebrows and nodded too seriously at her next words: "Yell if you see anything suspicious."

A minute and a half later, she reappeared at Jane's other side. He didn't need to ask if she'd seen anything. She shook her head slightly. "Something's off, though. It's been long enough for the local authorities to show and they haven't." She turned toward the unlocked door. "Let's test your disabled alarm theory."

They entered the building cautiously, despite the fact that Jane's initial foray hadn't produced any surprises - or violence. Lisbon kept her weapon drawn as she expertly swept the storeroom area and the rest of the premesis. It didn't take long. The dining space was basically one big open room free of privacy dividers, with picnic-style tables and a food bar near the kitchen. A sign read 'Sows and Sires' over a swinging door on the north side. Late-day sunlight filtered in through the windows and the main entrance. There was a faint odor of stale carpet and mop water. Lisbon checked out each of the restrooms and came back around to the kitchen, where the broom closet, refrigerator, grille and smoking station were also cleared. The only other door in the kitchen led to a cold storage unit with a faded caution sticker. A neatly torn piece of butcher paper was taped above the handle. Heavy permanent marker scrawled across it in all caps.

"Buddy system." Jane read aloud. He turned to her and grinned broadly. "Will you be my buddy, Lisbon?"

She had always been secretly amused at how much fun he was having when he was being mischevious. Well, maybe that wasn't such a secret. She had to fuss at him for a lot of things, but her entire team knew that sometimes it was just to keep up appearances. She was the boss. Cho, Rigsby and VanPelt could stand by and pretend to be ignorant of Jane's shenanigans. But Lisbon had to call him out on principal. Probably she meant it, too; at least half the time.

He could be incredibly aggravating (though in a different, less predictable way when he was feeling really low); but whenever he did something truly out of line, she was the first to remind her superiors that he closed more cases than anyone else at the Bureau.

She rolled her eyes, but one corner of her mouth quirked upward at the playful expression on his face. She pointed her chin toward the stainless steel door. "Open it."

He stepped forward and twisted the lever, giving a moderate tug to break the suction seal without opening the door all the way. There was a moment's hesitation, and then a whoosh of cold air poured out onto them. Lisbon gasped involuntarily. Jane dropped the lever on reflex, but caught it again before the door could fully close. "Whooo!" he shivered theatrically. Then he looked over his shoulder at her and whispered conspiratorially. "Shall we?"

"If there really is something hinky going on here, I can't imagine what we'll find in a meat locker." she deadpanned. They exchanged a knowing glance as Lisbon holstered her weapon. She braced herself for the full force of the chill as Jane began to pull the door wider.

"Wait!" he interjected. She jumped when he laid a hand on her arm. _That_ pissed her off.

"Jane - "

"Look!" he insisted. "It's not a two-way handle." he quickly pulled and pushed on the door to show that there was no matching lever on the inside. She frowned, and Jane physically guided her to take his place at the door while his eyes were scanning the kitchen floor. He found what he was looking for under the nearest set of shelves and bent to retreive it, holding up a heavy rubber doorstop for Lisbon to approve.

"Isn't that some kind of code violation?" she asked. "How do they pass inspections?"

That was something to file away. Meanwhile, Jane dropped the rubber wedge at her feet and said: "Ladies first."

Lisbon hated being cold. She took a deep breath and handed him the lever, resolving to spend no more time in a gigantic freezer than was absolutely necessary. Jane hung back a moment, making sure the doorstop lived up to its name, then turned around and called after her:

"This is a good-sized meat locker for a small establishment." He stayed just inside the door. "Look at all these dead animals! I wonder if there's a mail-order service for Pete's... I'm not big on barbecue sauces, so I have no idea... Have you ever heard of anyone shipping food from this place?"

"I haven't. Rigbsy could tell us if he were here." Her voice, like the rest of her, was shaking with the cold. She turned around, hugging herself, ready to pronounce the area officially clear. She was about to say something to Jane about getting back to temperatures above the frozen Arctic tundra, but the cliched phrasing died in her throat as something registered across her face.

Jane saw the look and wasn't sure how he needed to react.

"Lisbon?" he prompted.

Then he followed her gaze to where it landed: on the floor to his right. He looked past hanging beef carcasses, and to his great surprise, he found that he was standing a few feet away from a freshly frozen corpse!

"Whoa-" He jumped back, startled, and collided with a metal shelf. Lisbon's initial shock turned to amusement as she saw a briefly disoriented expression cross his face. The shelf was on wheels, which Jane was also not expecting; he reacted, stumbling forward this time. She tried to stifle a laugh at his expense.

"Are you okay?" she inquired with empathy.

He reached out for a solid piece of wall, and kicked something out of place in the process. Resigned to embarrassment, he was still shaken. Lisbon really would have laughed this time - she had always been a sucker for slapstick - but she saw that he had unwittingly kicked out the doorstop that provided their only way out of the room.

The next instant the lights flickered, and the room plunged into darkness.

Momentarily stunned, they stood in their respective places without speaking. At last Jane brightly quipped: "Well. That explains the buddy system."


	3. Chapter 3

**First things first: THANK YOU for reviewing! I am delighted at receiving feedback - it is so energizing and keeps me moving forward. **

**I will continue updating regularly until this story is finished. I started with a pretty good idea of what I wanted to accomplish, and I have found that fleshing it out involves asking and answering more questions on plot, etc. (Can't just go from A to D without visiting B and C first.) I expect that many of you have experienced this as well. In short, this story really has taken on a life of its own, and I'm having a lot of fun with it!**

**-So here's a chapter with a little fluff ..**.  
_

Lisbon laughed, a high-pitched "hunh" of disbelief. She reached for her phone. "I don't believe this. I can't believe this." she muttered, almost keeping the cold tremor out of her voice.

Jane had his own phone open, and was using it as a flashlight. He circled a wide berth around the dead guy, and started looking for another way out. Lisbon looked over and saw him stepping sideways between two frozen carcasses, examining the wall behind them.

"Can you get a signal?" she asked hopefully.

"Not yet," he said. As her vision became acclimated to the dark, Lisbon checked behind Jane and his phone-flashlight. She held her own at eye-level, praying for even a weak signal. Just one little bar... She would send out a text if nothing else.

"Hmm," Jane said.

"Hmm?" she echoed.

"I wonder who that is over there." He turned abruptly toward the door, and Lisbon ran right into him.

"Oh -!" she nearly dropped her phone. "What?"

"The dead man. I was just wondering who he was." he shivered. "And how did I not see him coming in here?"

"You were facing the other direction... so was I. You don't think it's the proprietor? the one we were coming to meet?"

"I don't know. It could be."

"Well, who else would it be?"

"I have no idea."

"Well, I plan to find out as soon as we get out of here. This is so embarrassing - and cold! Look - we can't even stand still!" she laughed without smiling, and he knew she was nervous. He laid a hand on her back as they examined the ceiling next, the light from their phones barely traveling that far. They could just make out the air vents over the center of the room.

"The fan is pretty loud," she said. "Does it feel like it's getting colder in here to you?" The air was circulating clockwise above their heads.

"It probably is," he admitted. "I'm sure the temperature is pre-set, and we've just thrown it off by holding the door open and then trapping ourselves inside and radiating body heat." Lisbon hugged herself tighter at the mention of warmth. "Not to mention the talking. All that hot air moving out," he finished. "It's adjusting itself to maintain the original settings."

Suddenly they had the same idea. Her face lit with hope. "I didn't see a thermostat when we were outside."

"Maybe it's on one of these walls." Jane volunteered, gesturing behind them at the other half of the room. With a burst of adrenaline, they sprinted toward the metal shelf that had triggered the loss of the doorstop.

Lisbon got there first by half a second, but Jane's cellphone light was much brighter than hers.

"Do you want the bad news or the good news, Lisbon?"

"There's no way to get this place above freezing," she croaked.

"But it's several degrees below that right now; we can at least turn it up _to_ freezing," he said thoughtfully, punching the digital arrow up to 0 degrees Celsius. Lisbon transferred her phone to her left hand and shoved her right one into her pocket. She quickly glanced into the shadows at the corpse behind her. She could almost make out its shape.

"Plenty of time for that, Lisbon," Jane pulled her around the rest of the room, searching in vain for a cellphone tower signal. Then they searched the whole place again, for good measure, the cold starting to take hold of them. When they were back again to where they'd started, they simply stood in the dark, facing the door.

"I can't believe this," she said again. "This is ridiculous. I'm never gonna live this down," she complained, pulling her hands into her sleeves and tucking them under her chin. _Especially if it kills me_, she thought. To Jane, she looked like a turtle, hunching her shoulders and trying to disappear into her jacket collar.

"We'll be discovered soon," his voice was reassuring as he accurately read her thoughts. He wanted to believe that, and so did she.

"Jane, -"

He pulled her into a hug and shuddered when her cold hands hit him in the center of his chest. To his credit, he didn't comment on it. She let him hold her for a moment. It was comforting to both of them. He had surprised her by it, but her reaction time had slowed. Her rail-thin body was already rigid with cold. Greater body mass and his signature vest had him faring slightly better than she, but he was not immune to the temperature. He hoped they would feel the change in the thermostat soon, but he wasn't sure if it would make enough of a difference. Freezing was still freezing. Maybe all they'd done was prolong the inevitable.

"I was only going to say," her voice was muffled as she spoke into his shirt, then turned her head when she saw her breath was making it damp, "that we've got to keep our minds occupied." He nodded, his chin resting over her head. "We need to stay awake and focused," she continued. "And we need to keep moving around."

"I think we'll retain more heat if we maintain physical contact," he said, totally serious.

"I agree."

"Body heat is lost faster through the extremeties," he mused aloud, and crammed his fingers inside his own sleeves.

_When did Jane become a Boy Scout?_ Lisbon wondered. But she also knew he was right; the department trained all rookies in inclement weather safety. Lisbon stepped just outside of his embrace, literally shaking from head to toe, and pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. "Put this on your head," she ordered, struggling to pry the edges apart. He took it from her and laughed, and she stepped forward again, this time wrapping her arms around him and sliding her hands under his jacket for warmth. He stiffened again at her cold fingers, but knew they would stand less chance of frostbite where they were. She suggested he do the same, but not before he followed her previous instructions and draped the cloth over his head. It actually did help to ward off some of the chill.

Lisbon peered up at him and giggled. "Do I look as silly as you?" He felt her laughter before he heard it. "Definitely not," his smile was friendly, kind. She regarded him rather seriously for a moment, and suddenly he felt very nervous. He knew she had read it in his face, so he rearranged it and changed the subject.

"I'm sorry, Lisbon," he sighed.

"For what? - ow!" she inhaled sharply as she felt his own freezing hands slip beneath her jacket.

"Well, not for that. I _am_ sorry for that, it is my fault," he stalled. Pulling her closer, he tucked her head under his chin again. She could already feel their fingers warming up.

"What else?" she prodded, her body relaxing just slightly as she stole heat from him. "I'm just trying to keep the conversation going."

He wasn't fooled by her innocent tone. "Don't make me say it, Lisbon. You know what I mean." _Getting you lost on the way out here, pushing your crankiness to the limit, __breaking into a building and trapping you inside a meat locker. With me. In possibly the last place you'll ever be alive. Which is just ridiculous._

"Shut up." She could almost hear his thoughts. She would've punched him if she wasn't so afraid that breaking contact again would turn her into a human popsicle - like the dead guy over there.

Actually, if she was being honest with herself (and why shouldn't she be, if her life was in danger?), she enjoyed being close to Jane like this. He smelled good, really good. Like... worn leather and expensive aftershave. She felt very human, to be grounded by those things at that moment.

"Keep talking to me," he told her. "I need to know what you're thinking about. I need to know what I'm thinking about."

"But it's so hard to think about anything other than how freaking cold it is in here!" she lied, nearly shouting to pull it off.

"Which is exactly why we need to converse."

Lisbon sighed, thought a moment.

"Hypothermia occurs when a body loses heat faster than it can produce it," she recited.

"Elementary, my dear," he nodded barely. "So where do you think it's the warmest?"

She blinked. "I don't understand the question."

"In here. Apart from what we're already doing, can we get as far away as possible from the carcasses that have been freezing in this room for days at super-low temperatures?"

She nodded deliberately. "Okay. The other end of the wall with the shelf."

They sort of waltzed over to the corner, and then kept shifting from foot to foot to keep the circulation going. Blood flow equalled heat.

"Can you still feel your fingers and toes?" he asked.

"Can you still feel your ears and nose?" she rhymed, feeling slightly punch-drunk.

They chuckled. It was gallows humor, but they'd take what they could get.


	4. Chapter 4

**q***Sorry it's been a little longer since the last update. SPOILER WARNING for this one: This chapter has spoilers for the Season 4 finale. Read at your own risk.** And thanks for the reviews :)**

* * *

Lisbon started awake, shaking off sleep for the tenth - or hundredth - time. Despite incessant trembling and growing anxiety, she couldn't seem to keep her eyes open. She was standing back-to-back with Jane, arms tightly crossed, every muscle braced against the current of cold air that was steadily blowing past them from the overhead circulator.

They'd been leaning that way for several minutes. Their prior stance was too awkward to maintain once they both caught the permanent shivers, and they'd been walking around at intervals. At one point, Jane moved his handkerchief onto Lisbon's head, but it fell off and she wrapped it around her fingers instead.

"Are your eyes closed?" he asked, startling her again.

"What? -No."

He used his best command voice: "Open your eyes, Lisbon."

"It's dark in here!" she grumbled.

"Yes," he sighed.

"Hey - how'd you know my eyes were closed?" she challenged.

"Just a guess. My eyes were closed."

She stomped her feet half-heartedly. Her toes were curled up inside her shoes. Jane wished he could produce a pair of woolly socks and a blanket for her. For both of them. If nothing else, at least he could keep her talking.

"Hey, Lisbon?"

"Yeah?"

"How long would we have to be in here to get frostbite?"

"I don't know. Not long if it's still below freezing." Her throat hurt, and she was tired of seeing her breath materialize in front of her.

"I wonder how long we've been in here?"

"Feels like an hour," she croaked. Neither of them reached for their phones. They'd been checking them somewhat frequently at first, but it became harder to hold them steady, and tougher still putting Jane's phone back together after he dropped it on the cement floor.

He prodded, "I think we need to walk around some more."

"I'm pretty tired, Jane," she groaned. "Aren't you?"

The truth was that both of them were suffering from muscle fatigue, stress, and adrenaline overload. "We have to stay awake," he told her. "Keep moving and stay awake." He stepped forward and sluggishly paced across the room. Lisbon followed suit, feeling alarmingly uncoordinated, but she was sharp enough to realize that Jane hadn't noticed it.

_This is so stupid_, she thought, _this whole situation_. Walking around perked her up, jump-started her brain again. For a while she had just let herself zone out. Jane must have done the same, because they hadn't spoken for several minutes at a time.

Fear was creeping back in. She'd known they could die if they weren't discovered, but she didn't know how long that could take and she had chosen not think about it. Now, the realization that she was losing control over her motor skills ratcheted her emotions straight up the mortal fear scale. Funny how freezing to death wasn't on anyone's wild phobia list. At least not anyone Lisbon knew.

To distract herself and possibly put things into perspective, she thought of her own phobias, things she had been deathly afraid of at one time or another. Ridiculously unlikely things, like swimming in the ocean and seeing a giant shark coming toward her. Or being chased through dark woods by a snarling pack of wolves: a childhood fear she couldn't trace. Losing her footing and falling unexpectedly from a high place. She'd had dreams about those things. Probably lots of people had.

_But who dreams about getting locked inside a freezer to die beside a dead man and a bunch of slaughtered cows?_

All of this went through her head at lightening speed, which was a whole lot faster than she was walking around the room. She wondered what Jane was thinking about. She knew it must be driving him crazy not to be able to cook up a scheme to get them out of there.

Being totally honest with herself, she acknowledged that a lack of greater control in this situation was one of the more frustrating aspects of the whole thing - for her. Anger was how she usually wore fear she couldn't turn around. There had been times in her life when she had felt powerless in one way or another. Losing her parents at a young age and spending her growing-up years raising her siblings. Being held at gunpoint, on more than one occasion. Being shot by someone she knew. Losing a friend and former lover to a violent psychopath.

She looked over at Jane. They had that psychopath in common.

"What?" he asked her. Unconsciously, she had stopped walking.

"Nothing," she lied, but it was for his own good. An outburst would throw him off the scent: "Jane! I will not be in a survival movie with you!"

Jane stopped now, regarded her quizzically.

"We're not in a movie, Lisbon."

She rolled her eyes and resumed her attempt at wearing a path in the concrete floor. If they didn't make it out of this, who would be called in to make the formal identifications when their bodies were found? Someone on their team? Someone in her family? Jane didn't have any family.

"Well. It may not come to that," she assured herself.

"What?"

She hadn't realised she'd spoken aloud. "Oh - nothing."

Jane appeared to be seriously concerned that she might be losing it. She attempted a smile. _Yes_. Real, in-the-moment fear was a different animal altogether than wild fantasies about being eaten by sharks.

_On the other hand_, she considered, _wouldn't knowing you were about to be devoured by a shark be a worse fate than this one, in-the-moment?_

She realized she was being morbid. _But seriously, when is the time to consider this stuff, if not now?_ She could take a not-so-wild guess at what Jane might be thinking about. Her thoughts returned to serial killer Red John, and the horrible possibilities that might still lie before her if she and Jane made it out of this alive. It had been some time since she first suspected that her friendship with the Consultant might put her life in graver danger than she had expected from her job.

Over the years, she had seen proof enough of his obsession with Red John. Though she knew Jane's motive was to catch and kill the man who killed his wife and daughter, it seemed Red John's motives for following the life of Patrick Jane (and allowing him to stay alive) were purely fanatical. The psychopath actually maintained that he was fascinated by his victim's devotion to tracking him down.

And then a few months ago Jane had gone off the grid; no one at the CBI had heard from him until he'd been away for half a year. He contacted Lisbon in secret, confiding in her that his absence was part of a plan to reel Red John in, by persuading him that he was ready to become his disciple. A few days after that meeting, Red John demanded that Jane kill Lisbon, as proof that he had adopted the serial killer's worldview. Jane immediately understood that the request was to call his bluff. Red John had proved in no uncertain terms that he recognized Teresa Lisbon was significant for Jane; and at the end of the day, the anonymous but well-connected killer displayed his supreme omniscience by taking the life of one of the CBI's highest-level figures, one who had been with them for a comparatively short time.

When the standoff was over, Red John remained alive and unseen; and neither Jane nor Lisbon were physically harmed. But Lisbon was not naive enough to think that Red John had lost interest in using her to accomplish whatever endgame he had in mind for Patrick Jane. And she didn't doubt that he could get to her if he decided to do it. That certainty, along with her familiarity with the killer's crimes and methodologies, had inspired more real fear in Teresa Lisbon than she would ever openly acknowledge.

Lisbon knew - or thought she knew - that Red John had absolutely nothing to do with the case that had brought them out to Pete's BBQ in St. Claire County. But for Jane... ridding the world of the depraved serial killer was his only defined goal in life; Lisbon was grieved every time she was reminded of it. _So, what if he died before he accomplished that?_

She knew that must have occured to him already. _That could be why he's so quiet. Maybe he's thinking about it now_.

Well, if they were going to die - and they were doing what little they knew to prevent it - Lisbon realized it would do them absolutely no good to spend their last conscious thoughts on regrets or what-if's.

_Think of something comforting_, she instructed herself. Her mind went blank, but in no time she was mentally singing the words to 'the chicken soup song.' It had been her niece's favorite when she was four years old. Teresa's brother Tommy played it everywhere they went together: at home, in the car, in Auntie Resa's house. Annabel had memorized all the lyrics. _Carly Simon, maybe_? That had been ages ago.

But now Lisbon couldn't concentrate on the song because of all the racket outside. _What was that? _It sounded like shouting. But the fan was too loud. She turned toward the door.

Suddenly her arm was linked with Jane's. "Lisbon! Do you hear that?"

"Shh!" she heard it, and her heart was racing.

"Someone's coming!" he said excitedly.

"Thank God!" she whispered. Relief flooded over her, then stopped abruptly as Jane squeezed her arm. "What if the someone coming is someone coming to move the body?"

Her blood would have run cold if she wasn't already freezing. In that instant she wanted to go for her gun, but she knew she couldn't get a grip on it. Everything was so eerily quiet; so still and surreal.

The next moment they heard a small popping sound. And then the lights flickered on.

Slowly blinking in the glare, they were rooted to the spot, squinting at the cracked doorway. A gun appeared first, followed by a man in a khaki uniform. And then things started happening very fast.

The gun was holstered as two more uniforms appeared in the door. Someone shouted about calling an ambulance, and Lisbon and Jane were ushered from the freezer into the dining hall. It had grown dark outside, but they could see the outline of their SUV through the front doors. One of the uniforms appeared with emergency blankets and draped them across the pair's shoulders. The two huddled together and answered a few questions from the local Sheriff, who was attentive but clearly very irritated that he hadn't been informed of their presence in his town until someone with CBI had called to report them out of reach.

"What time is it?" Lisbon asked.

Someone spoke up. "8:15."

A few minutes later, two ambulances arrived behind blaring sirens. Jane and Lisbon were made to lie on stretchers while emergency medical personnel produced special warming blankets and took their vital signs. They were pronounced to have body temps around 94 degrees, and were given intravenous fluids for probable dehydration.

Their mutual relief at being rescued - and being warm! - prevented both from protesting all the attention they were getting.

it was decided that one of the ambulances would stay behind to transport the body of the deceased, as the forensics team was already en route to the scene. So, Jane and Listbon were loaded into the other ambulance, to be transported to the local ER for a more complete examination. One of the medics explained to them in a bit more detail:

"Mild hypothermia can have all kinds of complications: dehydration, hypoglycemia, cardiac arrythmia. The attending physician will probably stagger out a couple of EKGs, and maybe admit you overnight."

Jane mumbled something grumpily. Lisbon thought she shushed him.

Another EMT began applying something like hot water bottles to their necks and armpits. The warmth felt so good that they both dozed off until they were started awake by the ambulance braking at the hospital.


	5. Chapter 5

In a corner of the ambulance bay at St Clare County Hospital, Jane sat slumped forward on a low concrete wall. He raised his head to hear Lisbon's side of a cellphone conversation with Agent Cho. As soon as he was discharged, Jane had changed back into a gray three-piece suit. It was fairly rumpled from the day's events; but at that moment, with the jacket folded folded over his crossed arms, he managed to appear careless and formal at the same time.

It was well after midnight. Lisbon, too, had been allowed to change out of the hospital's tie-on gown. She was standing left of Jane, leaning wearily against the bricks on the back of the ER building. According to the nurse tech, her walk-out papers were being prepared (she had finally produced evidence of rehydration and proper kidney function), so she had stepped outside to personally contact her team for the first time in over eight hours.

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up," she said into the phone. "Nothing a lot of sleep won't cure." She swayed a bit on her feet. "Turns out Freezer Guy was Jerry Reed...the cook at Pete's BBQ... They haven't declared a cause of death yet. Pete, Jr, is in the wind and the APB is out. Everyone's looking for him. The county cops questioned the assistant manager. Two of them came by a couple of hours ago to give us an update and make sure we weren't dead."

Jane rolled his eyes and nodded as he remembered one of them saying exactly that. He passed a hand over his stubbled face as Lisbon continued: "We plan to talk to him first thing in the morning, unless something new turns up beforehand." She listened quietly as Cho related the few pertinent details on the original case that the rest of the team had put together that afternoon.

"I agree - it's gonna be a really big coincidence if Jerry Reed's death turns out to be unrelated to Katie Boren's."

Jane yawned loudly and was too far gone to try very hard to cover it up. Lisbon started the next yawn and tried to stifle it before answering Cho again.

"There's a Motel 7 down the road. It's the only place in town. I'll text you the address when we check in. It may be a while, though." She yawned again, after Cho started up on the other end of the phone. "They haven't cleared me yet. Jane's already been discharged... We're out in the ambulance bay. It's so quiet around here! I think we were the biggest thing to hit them all day."

She chuckled at something the other agent said. "Yeah, it's a hole," she admitted, though not unkindly, of what they'd seen so far of the town. "That's probably why we got lost."

She glanced at Jane. He was practically asleep, staring absently past his shoes.

"Right, I'll email it, then," she said, a bit louder. "This time, if you can't reach us again, you'll know where to start looking."

"Oh, Ha-Ha," Jane piped in blearily. Lisbon smirked tiredly. Jane stood up as he recognized the ER nurse motioning them back inside. He touched Lisbon's elbow to direct her attention, and both looked desperately relieved at the clipboard in the woman's hands. Lisbon made a motion to indicate to her that she was wrapping things up on her cellphone. She was inwardly gratified at having chosen to contact the one agent on her team who kept things short and to-the-point.

"We're okay with just us out here for now," she assured him. "I'll let you know. Just keep working your end and keep me informed on whatever turns up."

Jane stood impatiently beside her, ready to trigger the automatic doors.

"Alright - and Cho? Tell VanPelt thanks for making that call. I think it may have helped to secure a more cooperative relationship with the local sheriff's office... Given what we put them through tonight."

She closed her phone and they headed back inside. Down the hall and to the right, toward the only 'occupied' room at this time of night (which was early morning). They had spent the last several hours lying on gurneys getting poked, pricked, prodded, etc; and questioned by every rubber-necking emergency room employee on duty. They'd had EKG's run and their temperatures taken regularly. Mostly they had been made to sip warm liquids, and follow those up with sweet, high-caloric offerings from the vending machines that were meant to keep their blood sugars from plummeting.

Later, they'd had the privilege of being objects of interest for staff relieving the evening shift. True to his crabby-patient persona (which was not an act), Jane was having almost none of their questions by that time. Except at one point: when asked to describe the environment where they had been found. He'd replied almost cheerfully: "It was like being inside a refrigerator - they even have a light that goes on and off when the door is opened and closed!"

There was a privacy curtain down the middle of the room, but it hadn't actually keep either of them from overhearing what was going on on the other side of it. Not that there was anything to be embarrassed about.

The nurse with Lisbon's discharge paperwork ('Wanda,' per her nametag) was obviously still basking in the excitement of being on the schedule that night. She was thrilled that two of her patients had come in with such a sensational story, and she didn't even know about the corpse that had shared the cold storage room with them. Jane gave her every sign that he was in no mood to chat, but that didn't stop her from bubbling over about what a miracle it was that they had survived unscathed.

Lisbon took the clipboard from her and started signing by all the 'X'-s.

"I mean, thank God that man saw your car!" Nurse Wanda gushed. "It definitely saved your life! At the very least, if they'd found you just a little while later we might have had to keep you overnight." She was unaware, of course, that a few minutes after Craig Davies (assistant manager at Pete's BBQ) had called to report the abandoned vehicle, CBI agent Grace VanPelt had called the local sheriff to brief him on Jane and Lisbon's intended arrival in town and their recently unaccounted-for status.

"I still can't believe you got out of there with those body temperatures and not a bit of frostbite!"

Lisbon flipped the clipboard around and pushed it toward the woman without saying a word. Somewhat startled, Nurse Wanda took the hint, and began pulling off carbon copies for the sleep-jonesing cops. "So here are your discharge instructions," she said brightly. "- and please take these very seriously. I'm sure you're both exhausted right now, but if you follow these to the letter, you'll be feeling right again in no time. Keep those fluids coming. It would be very easy for you to slip back into dehydration over the next few days. You must absolutely stay away from alcohol during that time. If at any point you start to experience any of these symptoms..." She pointed to a list she began reading off of Lisbon's copy. These were exactly the same discharge instructions that Lisbon had had the pleasure of listening to when Jane was being signed out.

"I know- " Lisbon cut the recitation short. "If any of this comes up, I'll call the doctor immediately." She offered the pen back to the nurse and took the paperwork from her hands. "Thank you very much."

"Yes, thank you," Jane turned around and spoke quietly but earnestly, bowing slightly, as Lisbon had already begun heading down the hall toward the exit. Neither could wait to get back into the SUV and hit the nearest shower-and-sack. A county employee present at the rescue scene had borrowed the car keys from Lisbon and followed the bus that brought them to the hospital earlier. The same, an Officer Black, had returned to exchange updates a few hours later. He'd written short but accurate driving directions to the motel for them on a sheet of typing paper from the nurses station.

Jane drew the folded paper from his pocket as they walked to their government-issued vehicle. He heard the automatic locks release, and handed the directions over to Lisbon, who was already pulling open the driver's side door. She climbed into the big car with a groan of protest. A slight chill in the night breeze and basically any move she made reminded her of how stiff and sore she was going to be in the morning. It would take a few days for their muscles to fully recover from the effects of the meat locker ordeal: hours of tensing up and shaking involuntarily.

Jane slurred as he mechanically reached for his seat belt: "Well. I'm not the least bit tired." He didn't settle down in his seat the way he usually did. Lisbon held her hands on the wheel at ten-and-two without realizing it. They were so wiped out that neither could give themselves permission to relax until they reached their destination. Otherwise they'd be snoring with their eyes open.

"This is just down the road," she croaked sleepily. "Doesn't look like it'll be a long drive." She handed the paper back to Jane and realized she hadn't yet started the car. She turned the key and slid the seat forward again, readjusting everything from Officer Black's dimensions. When she reached for the rearview mirror, she was stopped momentarily by her own reflection.

Jane noticed.

"You look fine," he said, as if it were of little consequence.

Lisbon did not think she looked fine. Her eyes were swollen, her lip was cracked and her nose was red. She took this in for moment, then looked over at Jane. He needed a shave and his nose and ears were also chapped. "Thanks." She sighed wearily. "So do you."

They pulled out onto the main road and turned left. In ten minutes they spotted their lodgings for the night.

Lisbon had been ready to snuggle up to her earlobes on a nice soft pillow under a heavy comforter. One look at this place, though, and that wasn't the first thought that came to her mind. The sign by the road had definitely seen better days. Like the one at Pete's BBQ. But the word "vacancy" was clear enough. Up close, it didn't appear to be a seedy establishment. It was cleanly maintained, but very plain and outdated.

"Doesn't look like much in this town has survived the recession," she commented anxiously, her dreams of a comfortable night's sleep almost floating away.

Jane yawned widely. "From the state of things we've seen today, I'd say the recession wasn't the cause for the decline," he remarked. "Though it surely couldn't have helped," he added charitably. "I'm sure we'll learn more tomorrow."

They parked in a space on the side of the motel, and unbuckled their seatbelts. There was one other car in the lot. It probably belonged to the manager. Lisbon sagged down into her seat and pulled out her phone to send the motel's address over to Cho. Their duffel bags were in the back, just something the agents had on hand for out-of-town cases. It had been so long since Lisbon had packed it - weeks, probably - that she couldn't remember what pajamas she had brought, and she sincerely hoped she had an extra pair of socks. She cut the engine and reached for the door handle, and Jane took her other hand.

He'd surprised her again - and himself - but she didn't pull away this time, either.

He squeezed her fingers gently but not hesitantly, in both of his hands, and ran his thumbs across the tops of her knuckles.

"Teresa," he said quietly.

She was ready to fall over from exhaustion, but he had her full attention. "Yes?" she breathed.

He searched her face and then broke into a tired smile. His eyes twinkled. And he nodded, pleased with something.

"Rest well," he said, releasing her hand. And he stepped out of the car.


	6. Chapter 6

**Ok, I made some changes to this chapter. Not plot- but style-related. Hopefuly it flows better. First version bugged me.**

****Once again, thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you are enjoying the story so far. This is too much fun :)****

* * *

Jane grabbed a black bag from the backseat and was halfway to the motel office door before Lisbon recovered and stepped out of the car to retrieve her own luggage.

A bell tinkled brightly as they entered the check-in area. The desk clerk was an older man - not old-old, but beyond middle-aged. Jane took one look at him and decided he was probably the owner. He seemed genuinely happy to see them, taking more of a personal interest in their arrival than they would have expected from a regular employee. It was also obvious that he had been sleeping, presumably through the doorway that led off the front desk area.

They exchanged the usual formalities and signed up for separate rooms. The clerk made a bit of small talk, asking where they were from and how long they they might be staying. Jane replaced his wallet and answered tiredly.

"Just for tonight, as far as we know."

The old man's eyes were kind as Lisbon handed him the credit card she always used for CBI expenses. She liked to keep her finances in order, and paying for things the same way every time helped her to keep track of the reimbursements she was due.

"Well, you're always welcome to stay a little longer if you like." The clerk smiled again and held out their room keys. "As you may have guessed, you are our only guests tonight."

They had realized as much from the parking lot. Even if this hadn't been the town's only public lodging, they were too tired to go anywhere else.

"Er, would you like some assistance with your bags?" the clerk offered. His white hair was sticking up a bit in the back.

Lisbon smiled tiredly in return. "No thank you, this is everything." She rolled her shoulder to indicate the strap of her CBI-issued duffel, and Jane saw her wince at the motion. The bells jingled again as he held the door for her on their way out, and they rounded the corner to their neighboring rooms. The keys they'd been given were well-worn and made out of real metal, and they almost couldn't get them to turn in the locks. After fiddling with them for a few frustrating moments, they bid one another "Goodnight."

* * *

Jane flipped up the light switch on the wall beside the door and took in his small room. He had passed an appalling number of nights over the last several years in surroundings such as these. This particular room was decorated in the dusty blues and mauves of two decades past. The furnishings were minimal, as expected: double bed; night stand on either side of it with two drawers; small, round table with a couple of mauve-cushioned chairs. An artificial ficus hid in the corner in a rose-colored pot that matched the floral bedspread; and the only wall hanging was a photo of a sunset seascape in a cheap plastic frame that had most of the gold laminate peeled off.

One of the windows wore a dusty-blue valance that also matched the bedspread. The other window held an old air conditioner, and Jane could see from across the room that the setting indicators had been manually repainted after the originals were rubbed away from use.

He dropped his bag on the end of the bed, and moved left toward the small bathroom. There was a loud thump from inside the wall behind him, followed by the sound of water running through rickety pipes. He drew the shower curtain back and twisted the temperature knobs. The same thumping sounded, this time from the opposite wall; but nothing ran out of his faucet beyond a small stocatto drip. He turned the knob marked "H" all the way to the right, and the flow of water did not change. He twisted the cold water knob and still nothing happened. _Best to wait for Lisbon to finish her shower first, and then try again, _he thought.

Knowing he was going to be awake for longer than he'd planned, Jane stood up and left the bathroom to pace around the room. He might have been about to fall asleep on his feet, but there was no way he was crawling into bed until he had washed off the day's strange smells. The Emergency Room had contributed its share of offensive olfactory experiences, but even beneath the memory of all of those, he was certain he could still detect the sharp scents of stale ice and frozen raw meat. He shuddered as his body physically recalled the stinging cold that had accompanied those odors. _Poor Lisbon_! he thought. She had told him once, a few years prior, that anything below fifty degrees was physically painful to her.

He remembered pulling her close inside the cold storage room. He remembered that she hadn't pulled away. He remembered that he couldn't afford to remember those things.

To pass the time more constructively, he considered the details of the homicide case that had led them from Sacremento to this sadly declining section of the state. The victim was twenty-two year-old Katie Boren, a resident of St. Clare County, California. Her body was found on the highway a few counties over. The scene was about 90 minutes from CBI headquarters. After their initial assessment, Lisbon's team had split up to cover more investigational ground. Rigsby went back to Sacramento to work from the main office. Cho and VanPelt started out the area where the victim's body was discovered, to trace her steps from that end and seek out local leads. Jane had accompanied Lisbon to the girl's hometown after Rigsby spoke with the mother.

They'd learned a good deal before they set out on the road: The victim had been home from college for about a month, working odd jobs to pay for next semester's books. She was picking up waitressing shifts at Pete's BBQ on the weekends. So far, Pete's was the last place she was seen... before the last place she was seen. It was run by a family friend, the victim's "uncle," Pete Sims, Jr. VanPelt had arranged for him to meet Jane and Lisbon at the restaurant later that day, but things had not turned out as planned.

Jane's mind wandered from the case almost as soon as it had set on it. He knew why he was having trouble concentrating; the same train of thought had haunted him since the cold storage accident. He had almost been prevented from ever having the chance to realize his life's goal: killing Red John.

Though today's case felt totally unconnected with the infamous serial killer, Jane had spent the last six or seven hours thinking more about him than anything or anyone else. Almost.

He'd been keeping a closer watch on Lisbon lately, ever since Red John had added their young Chief to his long list of violent killings. With Wainwright's shocking death, Red John's message to Patrick Jane, the CBI, and the FBI, had been clear: _No one is untouchable. No one is out of my reach._

It was rare for Jane to find himself powerless to get any leverage to manipulate an undesireable situation. As always, Red John had proven himself the greater exception.

Being locked inside that freezer was an accident. No one had been pulling any strings behind the scenes. It had happened many hours ago, but for Jane there was still an odd sense of time around it. He hadn't slept on it yet; it had happened, and it could have been gravely important - could have killed him. But it hadn't. He was still alive, and many years ago he'd come away from the greatest trauma in his life with a fierce determination to be well and to remain focused until he faced Red John. _Hopefully after I face him_, _too_. He was thinking more along the lines of 'after' these days.

Now, sitting on the wooden arm of a worn-out chair, Jane wondered for the ten thousandth time just when and how his life's vendetta would finally end. Would the deadly standoff ever take place? Would he survive it? He couldn't afford to acknowledge the possibility that the answer to either question was anything but affirmative.

The old pipes whistled and banged around inside the wall he shared with Lisbon's room, and then the noises stopped altogether. Jane waited a moment before running through the same fruitless efforts with his shower plumbing.

He sighed, weighed his options. He could ask for another room, but then Lisbon wouldn't know where to find him in the morning. He'd just go over and tell her first.

* * *

Lisbon hastily snatched the towel draped over the shower rod and wrapped it tightly around her body. With sincere reluctance, she drew aside the plastic curtain and released the lovely warm steam from its cocoon. She pulled on a t-shirt, pajama pants and - _miracle!_ - socks; worked her towel into a turban; and opened the bathroom door to let in some lighter air.

She wondered if she should have brought along some hotel shoes. That was what her school-days neighbor had called flip-flops. Just a basic barrier between bare or stocking'd feet and the slightly smelly, sticky dampness that often accompanied cheap carpet that was frequently cleaned.

Before she could give too much thought to the flooring, a loud knock came at her door. She nearly jumped out of her skin until Jane called out: "Lisbon? It's me."

"Jane?" She hurried across the carpet, happily noting that it didn't stick to her socks as she went to the door. _Why isn't there a peephole? _

"Is something wrong?" She unhooked the chain, turned the button lock and opened the door.

He was standing there looking sheepish with his overnight bag. He grimaced, sort of. "My shower is broken. Do you mind if I use yours?"

She was temporarily thrown by her immediate impression that he was genuinely embarrassed. She couldn't recall when she had ever thought he looked that way. He waited patiently for her answer, though he knew it would be 'yes.'

"Yes, of course.' Even to her own ears, she sounded flustered.

"If you'd rather I didn't, that's fine." he assured her. "I can go back to the office and ask for another room, but then I'd have to knock on your door again so you'd know where I'm staying." He spoke as if it didn't matter to him at all, but she knew better. She also noticed that he'd brought along the towel from his room.

"No - Jane, it's okay. Really." She backed up and pulled the door wider, inviting him in. "Only you might want to give it a chance to clear out in there; it's still pretty humid." She stepped into the small bathroom and began to wipe the water off the sinktop with a washcloth she'd seen hanging on an aluminum ring.

Jane was not surprised that Lisbon's room appeared identical to his own. Except that the color of the curtains and the color of the ficus pot had traded places. And maybe that was a different sunset seascape.

"Okay. It's all yours, Patrick." Lisbon came into the main room again with her hair dryer in hand, trying her best to appear nonchalant. She smiled at him for a second too long, then gave a fair performance of being distracted by searching for an open outlet.

"Thank you, Lisbon."

He ducked into the bathroom and the door swung shut softly.

Lisbon sat down on the edge of the bed with her hairdryer plugged into the wall by the nightstand. _This has been the craziest day!_ she thought. The shower started up, and she hoped she had left some hot water in there for Jane.

For his part, Jane hoped he wasn't inconveniencing her, or keeping her up too long. They'd had a non-stop, stressful day, and he really had expected to be in bed himself by now. _Oh, well. It couldn't be helped_, he reasoned. And he would have done the same for her, if the shoe had been on the other foot. _That would have been more interesting_, he thought. Lisbon would have blushed clear down to her toes if she ever worked up the nerve to ask to use his shower.

He chuckled at that image, then threw his towel over the shower rod and stepped into the tub. The next instant, he registered the smell of her shampoo, and he couldn't fight the something that suddenly came over him. Relief, unbidden, flowed through his entire being; wholistically, like a long-awaited balm. It was so delicious that he stood for a long time with his shoulders under the running water, breathing in her clean scent.

Lisbon listened to the creaky pipes and turned down the covers on the bed. She wondered how much longer Jane would be. She wondered if she would sleep at all now. The warm water had nearly succeeded in lulling her body to sleep, but her brain was threatening to keep her awake. She couldn't wait to crawl under the covers, even as she realized that it might take her a while to drift off now.

At some point the water stopped running, but she was lost in thought. When the bathroom door opened, she turned toward it reflexively, as Jane stepped out wearing damp hair and striped pajamas.

"Feel better?" she smiled tiredly at him.

He didn't have a straight answer for her, but stood very still, his hand on the doorknob.

"Lisbon." He drew in a deep breath. "Can we talk?`"


	7. Chapter 7

**Lisbon. Can we talk?**

* * *

She blinked. "Right now?"

"Yes. I'd like to."

"All right," she nodded once. "I was already thinking I may be past the point where I can easily fall asleep tonight."

Jane was trying to decide something. Finally, he blew out a breath and let go of the door, drawing a chair close to where she was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Jane?"

"Your nose is red." He sat down and faced her.

She laughed at him, quirking an eyebrow. "So is yours." He didn't smile back, and she couldn't read the expression he was wearing. "Such a serious face, Jane." She knew something was troubling him, so she didn't say anything more.

"Lisbon, I did of lot thinking tonight. About Red John, and -"

"I know what you thought about. I thought about it, too."

"You did?" he seemed genuinely surprised - and possibly... nervous?

"Yes. If we hadn't gotten out of that room, you would never have had the chance to catch Red John."

He folded his arms and shook his head. His forehead crinkled. "I don't know what Red John's plans are. I don't know if he's designed a particular role for me, or if he's just been acting according to his whims. I don't know if anything I say or do... or don't say, or don't do... will have any bearing on that."

Unused to showing velnerability, he frowned down at the bedspread. "I'm not sure I could have this conversation with anyone else."

Lisbon stood and motioned for him to stay put. She picked up a couple of paper cups from the nightstand and sidestepped his chair on her way to the bathroom. He heard the faucet start and stop, and when she came back into the room she handed him one of the cups and sat back on the bed with one foot tucked underneath her.

Jane rolled his cup between his hands. "I don't know if he's watching me out of purely sociopathic interest... I don't know what move I have to make that will get him to reveal his location to me. But I feel like he's trying to control that situation, too. Like maybe he _is_ controlling it."

"Because he's crazy," she interjected, emphasizing the last word.

"I tried to draw him out, Lisbon. I tried. And I thought... I was afraid that if I didn't distance myself he would come after you - or Cho or Rigsby or VanPelt..."

"Well, that didn't work - did it?" she chided him, her voice rising. "The next time you have a plan, you've got to let us know. That way we'll have time to shoot it down if it's flawed like that one was."

He tilted his head and squinted sideways at her. "Flawed," he repeated.

"Yes, flawed. Red John knows you'll never come around to his way of thinking, whatever that is. Or at least he knew you weren't ready to yet. All those months you stayed away from everyone, he was toying with you." She lowered her voice. "You can pretend to be an island all day long, but that's just not true anymore. And he knows it."

Jane looked away from her.

"When I let people in, I put them in danger."

"Yes;" she hesitated. "maybe. But that doesn't mean you should go on friendless for the rest of your life."

He was touched by her sincerity, but he brushed it off. "It isn't practical anyway. I can't get to him and stop him by myself."

"Jane - I think it's more important for you to understand that you do have friends, that you don't deserve to be isolated." She sighed. "We've been over this before. If we have to go over it again sometimes, we will."

Jane had heard that speech more than once, but he could tell she was leading up to something new.

"Don't get me wrong -" she said hotly. "We're all still pretty peeved at your little stunt this year. It was worse than all the other ones put together! Because you let us think you had given up. That you were hurting yourself and you wouldn't let anyone near you who cared about you."

He didn't dare to look at her.

She was clearly warming up: "And you didn't consider how it would affect the team at all. Or if you did, you chose to ignore it. Which is horrible. You didn't tell us the plan until things had gone too far. Cho, Rigsby, VanPelt - they all understand why you did what you did. But they don't trust you anymore because you showed them that you don't trust them."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I should have let everyone in on it. Even if you had tried to talk me out of it, at least you'd know exactly the kind of selfish I was being."

"Hindsight, Jane." She was through guilt-tripping him. Her voice softened. "I know you've spent years searching for Red John and plotting your revenge. I know what you went through with your family was terrible."

He quickly changed the subject. "Lisbon." Sort of. "What if I _had_ died; before catching that depraved psychopath?"

There was a lengthy silence.

"That could still happen, Jane."

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then he asked her, "Do you think I got Wainwright killed?"

His voice was rough. Her face was a mixture of pity and queasiness. "I have no idea, Jane. The only one who knows is Red John." She sighed heavily. "You know we all want to catch him. We were chasing him before Wainwright came to us."

He was looking pensive again, so she waited him out.

"I'm so sorry I brought you into this."

Surpsised, she opened her mouth to argue; but he waved her off. He steepled his hands around the cup and leaned forward to rest his chin on them. "I know you're a cop. I know what you do for a living. I know you protect other people and I know you can protect yourself. But there is someone out there who would use you to get to me." He faltered. "It's something I've feared for a long time now, and what happened a few months ago... _might_ have just been his way of showing he could read me, of messing with my head." His next words were more for himself than for her: "I don't know if he was measuring something or if he knew it all along."

He closed his eyes and admitted: "I am terrified that he will get to you."

Lisbon seemed affronted. She looked at him like he was crazy. "Not that way!" he clarified quickly. "Not 'bring you over to his side.'" He shifted nervously in his seat. "You know what I mean. You're much stronger than the people he finds to carry out his orders. I'm afraid he will decide he needs to..." he couldn't bring himself to say it, so he said the next worst thing: "hurt you." It was Lisbon's turn to close her eyes, to shut out the verbalization of one of her gravest fears. He said softly, "I know you worry about that, too."

Jane wanted to touch her, reassuringly, but he knew she needed words right now. "Sometimes I wonder why he hasn't tried to kill me yet - whether he plans to do it at all or if he hasn't made up his mind." It had been one of the first questions he had asked after becoming acquainted with Red John.

"Lisbon, I know you haven't been been sleeping well since you found out you were on his radar. I can see it."

_I wasn't sleeping well before then_, she thought, recalling their conversation a few months prior. She thought he was remembering that, too, but she chose not to bring it up.

"You're right," she offered, staring down at the cup in her hands. "Sometimes I can feel him watching me. I know it's probably paranoia, but even when I'm locked inside my house..." She rolled her eyes as if that were ridiculous, and he knew she was trying to stay in control of her fear. She took a small sip of water and continued: "Anyway, I couldn't help dwelling on that when we were stuck in the freezer. I've been trying to get through my days without thinking about being a target for a serial killer. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's gotten to me. I don't want to spend my life looking over my shoulder."

He regarded her with concern and more than a hint of pride. He tried to keep the guilt from his face because he knew it would make her angry. "I don't want you to live that way, either," he declared.

They looked at each other, and she shrugged. "All we can do is what we've been doing from day one: keep looking for him and be prepared to be taken by surprise." He blew out a sigh. "_And_," she added, nodding emphatically until he nodded also, "we agree that right now that's all we can do." The statement between-the-lines was loud enough: _So. Don't ever pull a stunt like that again_.

Jane grimaced. He would take it under advisement.

He sat up abruptly, and brightly proclaimed: "Well. The air is cleared! I feel lighter now, Lisbon. Don't you feel lighter?" He rolled his shoulders and beamed at her.

She stared at him as though he had just turned into someone else. "Do I -?"

"I know I still have some amends to make with Cho and the others, but you and I are friends again, aren't we?" He spoke frankly, and she realized he was asking her forgiveness.

"Lisbon?" he inquired hopefully. "Are we good?"

She was still trying to figure out his instant mood change. "We're good, Jane."

His forehead crinkled again, but his eyes smiled back at her. "Good." He was trying to keep it together. "Now that we've established that... There's something else we need to discuss."

Lisbon had the familiar feeling that she'd been led someplace without being told. She immediately braced herself for one of Patrick Jane's signature curve-balls.

Jane licked his lips. He remembered when they were leaving the car earlier - how he'd only meant to tell her goodnight, but somehow he had reached for her hand. He'd done that once before without thinking about it, when she had sat down next to him on the side of a dusty road. It had just felt right. He wasn't ready to think about what else he felt until an hour ago when he'd stood under her shower and decompartmentalized.

Lisbon eyed him suspiciously, but he noticed her breathing had grown shallow. He was glad he wasn't the only one who was nervous. He slowly set his cup on the floor by the bed.

"What is it, Jane?"

He moved to the edge of his chair and took the plastic cup from her hands. Her pulse raced inexplicably.

"It's the elephant in the room, Teresa." She raised an eyebrow. "The elephant in every room."

He swallowed, placed her cup on the floor next to his, and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"When are we going to stop avoiding the issue here?"

"What issue?" she fairly squeaked, unaware that she was holding her breath.

"This one - " He leaned forward and gently took hold of her hands.

"Jane, are you -?"

"Yes," he whispered, and kissed her.

It was an experiment; an expression, slow and soft. A light, lingering brush of his lips on hers.

At first she was completely in shock. A million thoughts raced through her head, and then there was only one. When he pulled back, she sat dumbly until he called her out.

"Lisbon?"

She shook herself out of the stupor, and said the first thing that came into her head. "Wow."

He knew he had taken her by surprise, but he wasn't yet sure if that was a good thing.

"That's what you wanted to talk to me about?"

He looked down at their joined hands. "I, uh... Yeah."

She watched his countenance for any sign of mischief, and found none. He looked as terrified as she felt. Among other things. A tug at his hands brought him to the edge of the bed, next to her.

She turned her body toward him, facing his right side. Both of his feet were on the floor, and one of hers was tucked beneath her. Squeezing his right hand, she reached for his face and brought his mouth to hers. This kiss was passionate, fervent, but undemanding. Their fingers were actively entwined as delicious shivers raced up their spines. Lisbon's thumb brushed across the gold band on Jane's left hand, and she softly broke away.

"Jane. What does this mean?"

"Well," he said finally, still reeling a bit. "I think it means we need to talk some more on the subject." She straightened the lapel on his pajama collar.

"But not tonight," he yawned. "What do you think?"

"I'm all for tabling the discussion - " she laughed at his shell-shocked expression and quickly continued, " - until we've both had a lot more sleep and a few days to think about it."

A _few days_? Jane knew he didn't need a few days to think about it, and he suspected Lisbon didn't, either.

She wanted to give him time to be certain of things before continuing this 'discussion.' To her way of thinking, it had been long overdue. But if he changed his mind before they left for Sacramento, she would always be able to tell herself that their actions tonight were solely caused by exhaustion and adrenaline overload. _Yeah, right_.

Jane sensed her reluctance. He hoped he was hitting the nail on the head here: "Lisbon, you know I'd never trifle with you - not about this kind of thing. I value your friendship too much."

She searched his expression once more and saw that he was perfectly serious.

"But if I could just kiss you again -" he took her face in both his hands and tried to convey all that he was feeling for her. Fiercely tender, joyful excitement, and lots of heat. When they finally broke apart, it was for oxygen. Her heart was hammering so wildly she thought he could hear it.

Jane pressed his forehead to hers and spoke without a trace of mockery. "We'll talk some more when you're ready."

She relaxed her hold on the front of his shirt and smoothed the wrinkles down. Jane realized in an instant how little clothing stood between them, and he quickly got to his feet and headed towad the door.

"Rest well, Teresa!" He was grinning like a little boy.

Lisbon wore a goofy smile as she waited for her legs to obey her addled brain. She finally stood and mechanically tossed the paper cups; moved the chair back to the table; and pulled the chain on the door.

She still had a smile on her face when she turned out the light.

* * *

**SO... I reviewed this story and decided we're at a natural ending point here. **

**Thank you for following it with me, and thank you for your praise and criticism. All of it is welcome! I hope to write another little episode for our team (new plot, etc.) one day soon. This one's gotten me through the summer hiatus, but I expect I'll be bitten by the bug again shortly! :)**


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